


Proximity

by AngriestPotato



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i don't have an excuse, idk i've just been having a lot of feelings about jumin fucking han, is this praise kink?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 07:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15601251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngriestPotato/pseuds/AngriestPotato
Summary: Jumin's pretty sure he's read somewhere that constant sexual intimacy is one of the best things for a marriage, besides he misses his wife like a hole in his chest, and he's not gonna let any business trip get in his way.Phone sex is only one more in the long list of firsts he gets to experience with her.





	Proximity

Jumin is not a fool, and he’s not a robot. He’s heard the jokes, the raunchy tales of men older and far more shameless than him in the strange gentlemen’s club business becomes at times. He, in theory, knows how this is supposed to go; so he speaks the words into the phone in his barren, sterile hotel room three time zones away from his wife.

“What are you wearing?”

She laughs –a surprised sound half gasp, half chuckle–and answers him with a thoughtful hum.

“Do you want me to tell you the truth? Or is it more exciting if I adorn it a little?” she asks.

  
And just like that she’s hit the crux of the issue. Jumin feels a swell of affection fill his chest to bursting; his love is a storyteller, he’s sure she can build the perfect fantasy for him, for them both. But she’s also willing to give him the choice of making this endeavor as flawed and honest and absolutely charming as she is.

“We’ll make a game of it,” he offers, and he’s sure she can hear his smile, “I’ll guess whether what you say is true or not and if I’m correct I can ask another question.”

“And if you don’t?”

It’s his turn to pause for thought, phone sex is far more complicated than what he imagined, or maybe it’s just because it’s him that’s doing it, with _her_ , and so it is special.

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me,” just saying it feels like a leap of faith and somehow tightens the knot of arousal between his hips at the same time.

“How can I be sure you’ll actually do it, though?”

There’s laughter in her voice, but he knows her enough by now to be sure it’s out of playfulness, and he can imagine her expression down to the lines happiness draws around her eyes.

“You’ll have to trust me.”

Her chuckle this time is a low rumble ending in a single high note of excitement.

“I’m wearing one of your shirts, with nothing under it,” she whispers, like she’s suddenly embarrassed someone will hear her, which is frankly improbable with the amount he’s spent on soundproofing the penthouse.

“True,” Jumin isn’t aware of how he mirrors her breathlessness until the word flies out of his mouth, almost automatically.

“Sorry,” she does sound a little apologetic to be fair, “I’m wearing my old college sweatshirt and those cat print shorts you gave me for Ellizabeth’s birthday, but I _am_ tucked in on your side of the bed.”

“Alright,” he laughs, she’s won the first round fair and square, “what do I do, love?”

“Can you take off your shirt for me?”

Even now she words it like a request, never forcing, never pushing, something he’s been trying to get good at himself. He has to focus, he reminds himself, once again carried away by the way she’s simply exactly what he needs.

  
“I’ve always loved watching you do that, have I ever told you?” her commentary catches him off guard, and he pauses for a beat, fingers frozen over the third button, “your hands are so elegant, and you do it so carefully, I can’t keep my eyes off you, I don’t know if you’ve noticed…”

He _hasn’t_ , there’s almost a sort of shame in the mental admission. How many longing looks has he missed from his wife? How many nights has he undressed without considering she might be admiring him? How does her face look when she does? Jumin resumes the work of unbuttoning while he tries to picture the expression she might wear when he does this at home and his chest is suddenly tighter by a fraction, as are his pants.

“It’s such a tiny thing, I’m sorry,” she says as if he could find fault in it. ”It’s just, you slide off your tie and undo that first button, and I can’t help but want to kiss the hollow of your throat.”

She sighs deeply into the phone but her breath seems to catch, which in turn makes his hips scoot forward over the edge of the bed pretty much on instinct.

“Are you touching yourself?” He fusses with his belt, arms still caught in his sleeves but at the moment he doesn’t really care if the bluetooth picks up the rustle as he struggles out of them.

“Yes,” the word is barely more than a moan.

“Are you thinking of me?” He’s aware he’s not following the makeshift rules of this game, he just needs to know.

“Always, Jumin,” the tone of his wife’s voice turns affectionate for a split second before desire wounds around it again, “I’m wishing I could breathe you in, the way I do when you hold me close, our hips lined up perfectly and all I can smell is you. Not only your cologne, it wouldn’t smell so good on anyone else, I can’t put a name on it.”

The clinking of his belt, followed closely by his pants, hitting the floor is clear in the room and, he figures, on her side of the line too since she breathes out his name in response. A clumsy stumble of syllables that drive him to rub his palm over the growing bulge still trapped in his underwear for the slightest modicum of restraint.

“And,” she continues, her breath coming out of her in a single rough huff, ”either how you brush your fingers down my back after you’ve unzipped my dress or how you catch my sweater in the space between thumb and index so you can pull it off but drag your palms up my sides at the same time… I can’t focus on only one… it all feels so good Jumin, you feel so good… and when you kiss me…”

His groan of her name is fully unconscious as he finally reaches for his erection and gives himself a couple slow pumps; he can already see the precum beading on the tip but he can’t pace his body any differently when she keeps stuttering in his ear, low and conspiratorial. He’s so hard it hurts; he’s not gonna last much more but she luckily sounds as wired as he feels.

“I –I love when you fit yourself between my legs and –oh God, you don’t even have to be fully naked but you smile down at me and I’m so _wet_ and so in love I don’t think my heart can take it…”

“So am I,” Jumin tries to steady his breathing to answer, though his hand speeds up and his hips follow the movement, thrusting into his fist, “I love you, so deeply…”

The sound his voice rips out of her –because it seems like that, wrestled out of her chest– is a full on sob, another thing he’s come to recognize; in this it’s a good sign, usually joined by the tensing of her body as she comes close to orgasm. The tell tale indications of a job well done.

“But then –you, you’re actually inside me and,” she’s panting now, and it paints the prettiest picture of her flushed face in his mind, so much that his rhythm falters, “you fill my world…”

Every word is punctuated by a gasp that threatens to send him over the edge. Jumin thanks his decades of self control for holding on by the slightest thread; he wants to hear her first, it’s been one of his dead set rules in his marriage, to see his wife coming undone before he allows it of himself.

“I’m –cumming, Ju _min_ …”

His name comes out split down the middle, two desperate little moans, and he spills at last all over his stomach; he mumbles her name too, he suspects he sounds as torn apart by it as she does, completely wrecked and rebuilt in a single moment of pleasure.

  
He finds his way back to reality by timing his breaths to hers, gradually slowing until she lets out a true, giddy giggle and the love in her voice returns tenfold.

“I was a little nervous about this but it turned out much easier than I thought,” she confesses, suddenly bashful again.

“Everything is easier if you’re by my side, darling.”

It could pass as a casual comment but he means it, he’s never meant anything so much in his life; except perhaps for every time he tells her he loves her.

“You read my mind,” she agrees before she’s interrupted by a loud, muffled meow, he could bet Elizabeth is locked outside of the room and unhappy about it, “hurry back to me, husband.”

“Will do.”

Jumin says his goodnights with a couple more declarations of love and is left to deal with the cleanup of his little phone escapade, but he realizes he doesn’t mind it, not one bit.


End file.
